


Bring me Home

by crunch_the_munch



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Depressed Peter Parker, Drug Use, Irondad, M/M, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Rape/Non-con Elements, Running Away, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Superfamily, Superfamily (Marvel), Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, sucidal peter parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 11:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18164780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunch_the_munch/pseuds/crunch_the_munch
Summary: Peter Stark doesn’t have the best coping skills and happens to have inherited more traits from his father than he realized.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning: please read the tags

    Guilt is an ugly monster. It consumes you slowly until there’s nothing left.

 

    There’s something I can’t tell anyone, because it isn’t right. 

 

    It’s that I get really fucking sad sometimes.

 

    It’s not fair of me to complain. To expect somebody to save me. For someone to at least drown with me.

 

    It’s not fair of me to be sad. Not when I’m so damn lucky.

 

    I have the life everyone dreams of. A loving family, amazing parents, anything I could ever want. So why can’t I stop feeling like a burden?

 

    My dad never planned on having kids, didn’t want them. Then I came along and changed the plan. That’s how it always seems to go around here. 

 

    Nobody expected me, nobody wanted some kid to take care of. They definitely didn’t want some sad, loser kid.

 

    I never had many friends. Ned and MJ are the only people who have ever been around without a responsibility to be. Why would I push off the only people there with my problems?

 

    I have pretty awful coping skills, so I’ve heard. If the media found out they’d probably say that I’m just like my dad was.

 

    I went to my first party last year at Flash’s house. Ned and MJ started drinking almost immediately. So when someone offered me a beer I didn’t hesitate to down it.

 

    I don’t remember that night, but I remember the next morning. Waking up on the floor somewhere in Flash’s house with the worst headache of my life. I remember wanting to do it again.

 

    I remember doing it again. Downing anything I could find and spending the weekend at MJ’s.

 

    I’m not sure how it became a regular occurrence. I just found that it went from every weekend to almost nightly. Sneaking into any party I could get into.

 

    I remember what made it get so much worse.

 

    I wasn’t being as careful as usual, I took a drink from a stranger. I didn’t call for help when I started feeling weirder than usual. Pushed it off as it being a new drink.

 

    I remember being on the floor, sobbing. Begging him to stop. I don’t know who he was. I remember that he didn’t stop.

 

    That I woke up bruised and missing clothes.

 

    That I didn’t leave my room for a week.

 

    That when I did I went to another party. 

 

    Learned how to roll a blunt that night. Got high enough that the world numbed.

 

    Took any drug offered.

 

    I stopped going into school on time, stopped doing my work. 

 

    Some days I didn’t go at all and others I just went in whenever I woke up and got dressed.

 

    When I was there I was nothing but snark and edge. Not doing any work and scrolling through instagram on my phone. Refusing to give them my phone when teachers asked.

 

    I’m pretty sure I spent more time in detention than everyone in that school combined had.

 

    I should’ve known that it wouldn’t last. That they’d call my dad eventually.

 

    One day I came home to my dad and stepdad sitting on the couch. Some of the others around on the floor or walking.

 

    “Peter, we need to talk,” my dad had said.

 

    “Oh, do we now?” I said not looking up from my phone.

 

    “Your principal called. He’s concerned about you,” my stepdad had said.

 

    “Good for him, I guess.”

 

    “Pete, talk to us. Why haven’t you been going to school?”

 

    “Didn’t want to.” I sat down on the couch far enough away from them.

 

    “You didn’t want to? What’s that supposed to mean?” My dad tried to reach over to me but I flinched away.

 

    “That I didn’t want to,” I said rolling my eyes.

 

    “What’s gotten into you? Is this some kind of teenage rebellion?” My stepdad asked, some kind of concern in his voice. I shrugged in response.

 

    “You can’t keep behaving like this. School is important, your grades are important.” My dad had said.

 

    “Oh, fuck you,” I spat. Everyone in the room’s eyes widened.

 

    Aunt Nat mumbled something. Dad asked her what she had said. “He’s high,” she said, slightly louder.

 

    I heard people cry, “What?” but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

 

    “Sure am. Great detective skills. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.” I stomped off, ignoring the cries to come back.

 

    I slammed my door and threw my phone at the wall, watching it shatter.

 

    I went out my window and didn’t particularly care if I fell. That probably should’ve scared me, but it didn’t.

 

    Thoughts didn’t really exist at that point. Just passing bits of consciousness in all of this numbness.

 

    I felt the wind on my skin. Flying. Floating. It felt the way my thoughts felt as they passed through. It felt the way I felt that night as I begged him to stop, the way I felt the first time I got drunk, the way I felt when Gwen died in my arms. The way I felt the first time I brought a razor to my wrist. Not really aware of what was happening.

 

    The way I wanted to stop feeling, but feel all the time.


	2. Misfits

    I found myself at Ned’s house before I realized what I was doing. I knocked on his window until he opened it.

 

    “It’s go time,” I had said.

 

    “Already?”

 

    “We always knew it was coming. Call MJ and ditch the phone.”

 

    “On it,” he replied, leaving the room. A few minutes later he came back without his phone. A backpack over one shoulder.

 

    “Are you ready?” I asked.

 

    “Born ready. Let’s roll.”

 

    We went out the window and went to our spot that we had arranged in the park to meet with MJ. She had a backpack over her shoulder.

 

    MJ’s bag held clothes for all of us and a few thousand dollars that we stole. Ned’s held food and drinks.

 

    We had been planning this for a long time. Been ready to leave before we really knew what leaving meant.

 

    We had set up the plan a year before. Our one rule was be prepared. Whenever one of us said that it was time, it meant that it was time. 

 

    A bunch of depressed kids running from their problems.

 

    Ned was tired of being ignored. He had decided that enough was enough. That if they were gonna ignore him anyway, might as well make it easier on them.

 

    MJ was sick of feeling like she was taking up too much. Things that she thought her siblings deserved more than her. Thought she took up too much of everything. Space, time, food, whatever.

 

    And I was just some kid with a perfect home life and awful coping skills. A kid who happened to be an alcoholic an had an a pain pill addiction that he wasn’t quite sure where it started. A kid who was raped and that’s seen more people die that he knows what to do with. A kid that was sick of being a role model, of having to be everything all the time.

 

    A bunch of misfits hoping to leave their problems behind. Hoping to be free.

 

    We were heading to an abandoned warehouse in Jersey. with the hopes it’d be one of the last places they’d look. That by the time they got to looking there, if they got to looking at all, we’d have moved on already.

 

    We didn’t have much but we had hope. We planned to take two city busses and then hitchhike the rest of the way.

 

    A gun tucked into my jeans in case hitchhiking went awry. I’m not sure I’d have many qualms about using it. 

 

    These two are my family. They’re what I have and all I could ever ask for and I would do anything to protect them.

 

    They’ll probably think this is some cry for attention. Hell, maybe it is. If it is than so be it.

 

    We won’t be found until we’re ready. We’ll fight for everything until then. We’re gonna survive, make our own names for ourselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short filler chapter. whoops this sucks

**Author's Note:**

> This was a whole mess so whoops. Idk if I should continue but eh


End file.
